Fresh Flowers

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Bassim

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Would you please correct the mistakes in my short story. I wrote it as an exercise, in one go.

Just as his first, Clive's second wife used to buy fresh flowers twice a week. They cost a lot, and it pained him to see that they all ended up in a waste bin. He mustered the courage for weeks to tell Laura she should be more careful with money.

"What do you mean more careful?" Laura gave him a murderous glare. "It's my money. I can do whatever I want."
"Of course, you can," he said. "I can also buy three cars and drive around all day and night and have some fun, but I'll never do that because I'm thinking of you. Do you know what it means to be married?"

"No, I don't. Please tell me," she said, feigning scorn. She was a head taller than he and stared at Clive like a headmistress at a naughty boy, contemplating his punishment.
"It means sharing and supporting each other," Clive said in a shaky voice.
"That's the past." Laura said. "Since we feminists came to power, new winds are blowing - winds of change and liberty. No more sharing, my dear, only enjoying life to the full." Her blue eyes were ablaze with excitement.

"I understand that," he said. "But couldn't you use plastic flowers instead? They look just the same."
"What! Laura screamed. "Now when the whole word is getting rid of plastic you want me to buy artificial flower instead? Never!"

Late in the evening, as Laura was snoring contentedly and probably dreaming one of her feminist dreams, Clive climbed out bed and went into the kitchen where he switched on a laptop and went on the internet. "How to deal with an overbearing wife?" he typed in the search bar and spent the whole night learning useful tips and tricks.

In the morning when Laura woke up, she turned to him and asked, "Why do you look so smug? Did you dream something funny?"
"Oh no," Clive said, rubbing his hands under the duvet. "Just ordinary stuff. I'm going to make us some tea." He got up, filled up the kettle and put it on to boil. Laura would soon go out to buy fresh bread and other food and hopefully met some of her friends and spent hours in a cafe. In the meantime, he would go on the internet and learn more. If that didn't help, he would have no choice but to do her what he had done to Samantha. A lovely boat outing at sea, an accident, the overturned boat, a failed life jacket, such a tragedy... But this was the last option. He would like to keep her alive. A former gymnast, Laura had still an attractive body despite her sixty eight years. And she liked to cook. But so did Samantha too. How strange that they both were obsessed with fresh flowers.
 
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emsr2d2

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Would you please correct the mistakes in my short story. I wrote it as an exercise, in one go.

[STRIKE]Just as his first,[/STRIKE] Clive's second wife, like his first, used to buy fresh flowers twice a week. They cost a lot, and it pained him to see that they all ended up in [STRIKE]a waste[/STRIKE] the bin. After a few weeks, he mustered the courage [STRIKE]for weeks[/STRIKE] to tell Laura she should be more careful with money.

"What do you mean 'more careful'?" Laura [STRIKE]gave[/STRIKE] asked him, with a murderous glare. "It's my money. I can do whatever I want."
"Of course (no comma here) you can," he said. "I [STRIKE]can[/STRIKE] could [STRIKE]also[/STRIKE] buy three cars and drive around all day and night [STRIKE]and have some[/STRIKE] having fun, but [STRIKE]I'll[/STRIKE] I would never do that because I'm thinking of you. Do you know what it means to be married?"

"No, I don't. Please tell me," she said, feigning scorn. She was a head taller than [STRIKE]he[/STRIKE] Clive and stared at [STRIKE]Clive[/STRIKE] him like a headmistress at a naughty boy, contemplating his punishment.
"It means sharing and supporting each other," Clive said in a shaky voice.
"That's the past (no full stop here)" Laura said. "Since we feminists came to power, new winds [STRIKE]are[/STRIKE] have been blowing - winds of change and liberty. No more sharing, my dear, only enjoying life to the full." Her blue eyes were ablaze with excitement.

"I understand that," he said, "but couldn't you use plastic flowers instead? They look just the same."
"What?" Laura screamed. "Now, when the whole word is getting rid of plastic, you want me to buy artificial flowers instead? Never!"

Later in the evening, as Laura was snoring contentedly and probably dreaming one of her feminist dreams, Clive climbed out of bed and went into the kitchen where he switched on [STRIKE]a[/STRIKE] his laptop and went on the internet. He typed "How to deal with an overbearing wife?" [STRIKE]he typed[/STRIKE] into the search bar, and then spent the whole night learning useful tips and tricks.

In the morning, when Laura woke up, she turned to him and asked, "Why do you look so smug? Did you dream about something funny?"
"Oh no," Clive said, rubbing his hands under the duvet. "Just ordinary stuff. I'm going to make us some tea." He got up, filled [STRIKE]up[/STRIKE] the kettle and put it on to boil. Laura would soon go out to buy fresh bread and other food, [STRIKE]and[/STRIKE] hopefully [STRIKE]met[/STRIKE] meet some of her friends and [STRIKE]spent[/STRIKE] spend hours in a cafe. In the meantime, he would go on the internet and learn more. If that didn't help, he would have no choice but to do to her what he had done to Samantha. A lovely boat [STRIKE]outing at sea[/STRIKE] trip, an accident, [STRIKE]the[/STRIKE] an overturned boat, a failed life jacket; such a tragedy... But this was the last option. He would like to keep her alive. A former gymnast, Laura [STRIKE]had[/STRIKE] still had an attractive body despite her sixty-eight years. And she liked to cook. But so [STRIKE]did[/STRIKE] had Samantha. [STRIKE]too.[/STRIKE] How strange that they [STRIKE]both[/STRIKE] were both obsessed with fresh flowers.

See above.
 

Bassim

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emsr2d2,

I think my version of this sentence is better.
"What do you mean more careful?" Laura gave him a murderous glare. (I have used a question mark, and don't need to add "asked him").
Your version.
"What do you mean 'more careful'?" Laura asked him, with murderous glare. ( You added "asked him", which I think is redundant, because if you have a question mark it implies she asked him).

But maybe I'm wrong.
 

emsr2d2

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OK, I'll concede that you could leave her question as a standalone sentence and leave "Laura gave him a murderous glare" as the next standalone sentence. I connected them because I assumed she was glaring at him at the same time as speaking to him. Having it as two sentences makes it sound as if she asked the question and then glared at him. I would still enclose "more careful" in some kind of quotation marks because she is quoting his words back at him.
 
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